#Fic: Say it with Flowers

[justaz]

arthur notices merlin and lancelot’s chemistry in s1 and then merlin and gwaine’s chemistry in s3 and comes to the conclusion that merlin likes men with long hair. in completely unrelated news, arthur thinks he might look good with long hair and decides to grow it out

[triglycercule]

can the mtt commit more crimes that just murder please i know theyre the MURDER time trio but ppppleasse,,,, please,,,,,,

they'd be terrible to be next to on the highway. horror's going 160 mph amd has long past gone over the speed limit. dust's out for BLOOD and by blood i mean your tires. he's somehow sniping those round rubber wheels from the high moving vehicle with the precision of a master fruit ninja player. if your car explodes or flips over in the process that's not his fault. and then to make matters worse for everyone on the highway killer's in the backseat scratching up the doors and windows of your car with a knife everytime horror gets close to another car and oops he accidentally just disfigured your face also did i mention theyre all drunk during this

ok so theyve all got the classic face WHY DONT THEY ABUSE IT!!!! horror gets to do a little paper mache to cover up his head hole and then wearing glasses. killer i dont know what the FUCK he can do to get rid of his perpetual tears but let's just pretend that theyre conveniently gone for now. and then all dust has to do is put down his hood! anyways identity theft is cool. imagine how much they could totally fuck up classic's reputation with this. set up fake tinder profiles and then scam people for their credit card info/free dates (while ordering every expensive thing) and stealing wallets. walking into various grillby's's around the multiverse and telling terrible jokes. like ACTUALLY bad jokes. and then of course just being a huge piece of shit at the bar. god theres so many things they could do pretending to be classic. which one of us is hikaru looking ahh except the only difference between the three is the color of the stains on their clothes (either gray (dust) black (killer) or red. well faded red (horror))

ROBBERY!!!! ROBBERIES PLURAL!!!??? train robbery gas station robbery bank robbery GOVERNMENT robbery (what would you rob the government for?? documents??? idk) anyways. mtt robbing a train except its just a really shitty plan and they dont know jackshit about what theyre doing. killer's taken over the conductor's cabin and now he is booking it. how fast are trains allowed to go idk but the maximum. anyways meanwhile horror's on the tracks fucking up the rails with his strength or whatever (listen i know he's weak but picking and choosing what hcs i believe in is my art) and dust is there to teleport him away before the train crashes into him and turns him into a trolley problem victim. and then of course that shit doesnt fucking work and the train just ends up flipping over and catching on fire or something (killer survives because of course he does he's killer). and then in the end dust just has to flip the entire train over and they just stroll into the part that actually HAS the money

and then they go out and get ice cream. sometimes the murderers need to take a break from murdering and just do NORMAL crime yk???

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

Life is Very Long

by Vamillepudding

T, 12k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian is a good for nothing, possibly evil, possibly fake uncle. But he's Jin Ling's good for nothing, possibly evil, possibly fake uncle. So it stands to reason that when Jin Ling starts to suspect that Hanguang-jun is mistreating his husband, he immediately recruits Jiang Cheng for a rescue mission.

~*~

Clothes Like Clouds, Face Like Flowers, Half Soaked in Tears and Blood.

by JaenysBloodcourt

T, 9k, Jin Guangshan has a harem including Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Meng Shi, Wen Ning | Wangxian

Summary: At the time, the Forbidden City seemed like the perfect place to escape Yu-furen and not earn her wrath. Or, the one where WWX is a concubine in Jin Guangshan's harem, he hates it, and Lan-Pin's pretty face finished rocking his world.

~*~

Flowers Blooming in the Dark

by TheLegendOfChel

T, 64k, Wangxian

Summary: When Wei Wuxian, the god of death, meets Lan Wangji, the god of vegetation, the last thing he expects is to be swept off his feet. Unfortunately, the rest of the world is less accepting of their courtship. Denied permission to marry, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji elope. The other gods, furious with this blatant act of disobedience, declare war on the underworld, and vow to punish Wei Wuxian for kidnapping the honorable Hanguang-jun. Wei Wuxian finds this rather unfair. If anything, Lan Wangji is the one who kidnapped him!

~*~

bespoke

by cafecliche

G, 3k, Wangxian

Summary: The bundle of mail from the Qinghe Nie Sect arrives in Cloud Recesses late one evening. All but one piece of the pile is a stack of invitations to this year’s Cultivation Conference, wrapped in light blue string. The last is a short, handwritten list wedged between two envelopes, unnoticeable until it flutters to the floor. (Or: the juniors stage a tiny, benevolent rebellion.)

~*~

🔒 you've got to find a way, say what you want to say

by Quixiote

T, 12k, Wangxian

Summary: Every month, a man comes into the post office with a letter that cannot be sent to the person they are intended for. Or: The Saga of The Letters To The YiLing Patriarch as told by DushanYou sect Post-ivator Bai Ju

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[stellewriites]

butch!141 moodboards? 👀

butch!141 moodboards 🙂‍↕️ - links to each fic attached

simon price

gaz johnny

inspired a little bit by the fic ideas i’ve got planned for them and their characters overall,, i have a reason (though some are admittedly Dumb) for every item on these moodboards so PLEASE yap away with me about them

[alienfailboy]

you know the fanship is good when you can't tell if the screen shot is edited

[wyvernstail]

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Akai Shuuichi isn't afraid of heights. Like any sane person, however, he dreads the fall.

Though he questions his sanity. Because try as he might to stay away from the edge, it calls to him. Staring into sweet oblivion sends shivers down his spine, the uncertainty of his fate a thrill like no other. Most days he trusts in himself, his ability to walk the razor's edge, but he's fallen before. And it hurt.

Of course, pain is just a part of life he's learned to live with. In his line of work, people get injured all the time. And if you can't handle that, you have to be very lucky to make it out alive. For the longest time, death wasn't an option.

(Now, it wouldn't be so bad.)

So he steadied himself, got smarter, hardier. Better at avoiding situations that result in pain. And better at shutting it out, too, when it did appear, in order to keep going.

Why, then, does his chest ache and burn?

It's quite simple.

Layers and layers of ice, degrees of separation in place precisely to protect him from pain like this, melted through by Rei's blazing heat.

What a stupid thing he's done, to get attached again.

He could've tried to resist, at the start. Before things had gone too far. Before he got to know Furuya Rei.

But maybe, by then, it was already too late. In truth, he probably doomed himself years ago, when he accepted Scotch's offer of companionship. It brought Bourbon into his orbit, and the man's never been any less than doggedly persistent. Once Shuuichi let him in, he was never going to escape unscathed.

Shuuichi let him get too close, and got burnt as a result. Could see it coming, too, for the longest time. But how was he supposed to escape Rei's brilliance? His touch, devastatingly kind? It would be like trying to block out the sun - an exercise in painful impossibility.

So he's stopped trying, and embraced the wildfire that is Rei. Of course he burns, it's his nature.

(There's some things Shuuichi will need to reevaluate about his own, now that he has time. Because he certainly never thought of himself as a masochist, and yet, despite the pain, he knows one thing for certain: he wouldn't want things any other way.)

(Not one that is available to him, at least.)

Thus, he resorts to clinging to the vestiges of patience and composure he has cultivated for years to keep working through the situation with a cool head.

To do what is right.

He's putting back together what he tore apart, unwittingly, some three years ago now. Their struggle is over. They deserve to rest and recover, nurse their wounds - together.

It doesn't matter that he feels like he's bleeding out. He's used to patching himself up, after all.

And he's glad that he can do this for his... friends. The term invokes a foreign, gentle joy. They're no longer team mates, no longer allies, no longer forced together by circumstance. That's in the past, now. They stick to each other by choice, these days. That makes them friends, right?

He's happy for his friends.

Shuuichi pours himself another glass of scotch.

.

He should've picked a different hotel than his family.

Rather, his family should've really looked into a permanent residence already, considering Masumi has decided she doesn't want to go back to Britain. It's not like mother could refuse, after all the things his little sister did for her - not least of which, coming clean to Shiho and convincing her to share the APTX antidote, when all was said and done.

They're certainly not lacking in money, and Shuuichi's sure the Hanedas have connections that would make finding a flat, or even a house, possible, even on short notice.

Then again, Masumi told him they've been living in a hotel for more than half a year - maybe they've simply grown used to the comforts. It's not for him, but he's rarely seen eye to eye with mother.

Regardless, none of this excuses banging at his door at seven in the morning, on the dot.

"Shuu, are you up yet?"

Well, if he wasn't, he surely would be, now. Years undercover have left him a light sleeper out of necessity - it's a habit he won't be able to break for quite a while, even if he wanted to.

Still, the splitting headache and nausea make him consider playing dead. He doesn't feel much better than it, in any case.

Another set of knocks shakes his door. He loves his sister, and her determination is one of her best traits. But some of these days, it's also highly inconvenient.

"One moment."

He drags himself off the barstool, checks the mirror. Can almost hear Rei telling him he looks like death warmed over. Roughly two hours of sleep half-draped over the hotel room bar certainly didn't do him any favours.

He buttons up his shirt in an attempt at modesty, combs back his hair roughly. Part of him wants to send Masumi away - she's idolised him for too long. His little sister doesn't deserve to have the illusion of composure shattered, shouldn't have to see him, like this.

But she told him, at her birthday party, trying alcohol for the first time in their family home, under his watchful eyes. Always direct, but, as it turned out, even more so when tipsy:

'When all of this is over, I want my brother back. Just...you, however you are.'

If Shuuichi waits for a time where he feels ready to talk to her, won't stain her merely by existing in proximity, they'll never get to meet at all.

(He can't have that. He's missed too much, already.)

So he drags himself to the door, dishevelled, morning breath and all. Opens it a crack.

"Morning." If his voice is a little rougher than usual, there's nothing he can do about it.

Masumi pushes the door wide open so she can step in, giving him a wide berth. Inspects him head to toe, worry clear in her scowl and the wrinkle of her nose.

"...is this a bad time?", she asks, a glint to her eyes as she notices the half-empty bottle of scotch on the bar's counter. She can't help it - a detective through and through, and not good enough at feigning nonchalance yet. The evidence at the crime scene is surely forming a rather damning picture - he really should have put the bottle back into the bar before letting her in.

She plops down on the small sofa, makes herself comfortable while he opens the window. That should at least give them some relief from the smells accumulated overnight in the room.

"No. You're just here early. Is something the matter?"

He doesn't bother with pleasantries on principle, but at this hour he finds himself even less inclined. Besides - she wouldn't be here this early if it wasn't important. At least Shuuichi dearly hopes she has more sense than that.

Masumi looks down at the floor, a little guilty. He settles on the barstool and waits for her hesitation to blow over. Must really be looking like shit, if he's managed to curb her usual enthusiasm.

"I was going to ask for a favour, but I'm really not sure-"

He gives her an unimpressed look, from up upon his perch. It's a little too early to beat around the bush.

"Masumi." A single word, aimed to cut her off with calm precision. "How do I help?"

He might not be feeling well, but he's a professional - he's worked in worse conditions, for less important reasons. He'll drag himself out of his slump, if she needs him.

"You don't have to. It's silly." She gives him a sheepish smile, fangs and all.

"That's for me to decide, once you let me know what you need. So?"

She steadies herself, looks up at him, and sighs.

"For context, it's been months now, but Ran's still down about the whole Shinichi fiasco. So, we've decided to surprise her with an outing, tomorrow night."

So far so good, although he doesn't see where that concerns him.

"It was gonna be just us girls, and I'm confident that between Ran and myself, we can handle anyone stupid enough to try and cause trouble. But you know how it is in Beika. There's always a risk."

He does indeed know how Beika has somehow overtaken Osaka in every single criminal statistic there is. If she didn't have friends here, he would suggest moving elsewhere. He hears Nagano is very lovely, all year 'round.

"So we were discussing if there's anyone we could bring for company. And, well-"

"Go on."

"Sonoko somehow - I'd really like her resources - caught wind that Okiya Subaru is back on 'vacation'. She might have suggested asking him to accompany us?"

Not entirely unexpected - miss Suzuki had taken something of a liking to him, for whatever reason. It's a testament to the improvement of his acting skills. Engaging with kids and teenagers is a far cry more difficult and involved than his cover as Rye, somehow.

"...she may also be under the inaccurate impression, you, well, he could be a potential match for Ran."

At least his sister's on the right page there. That's not happening, never in a thousand years. Even if Ran wasn't barely more than half his age, she's too innocent, selfless, kind. If something like love exists in his heart, it couldn't ever be for someone like her - not again.

"You want me to decline the offer, then?" Simple enough.

Masumi shakes her head.

"No, Sonoko's right. It's always good to have an extra pair of eyes, and I'd love to have you with us. Been too long since we last spent time together. Besides, I don't think Ran is even interested in you - or anyone, really, after that disaster..." It takes him a moment to place the bitterness in her voice, uncharacteristic as it is.

"And that is unexpected?"

"No. I get it, she needs time. But she's miserable, and I want her to cheer up already..." Masumi mumbles the latter half to herself, subdued. Shuuichi's not sure he was supposed to hear that, but, well. He did.

"You'll get through to her eventually."

Good back-up gets one out of the toughest of scrapes, he can attest to that. If his sister is determined to get Ran to feel better, her persistence will make it come true, eventually.

"I sure hope so." She smiles up at him.

He finds his lips quirking up in response. "You focus on helping her. I'll cover your back."

He's sure he'll manage not to indulge miss Suzuki's delusions too badly. Rei often let him know how off-putting he can be, after all - finally a good use for his skills.

"Thanks, Shuu."

She gets up. Stops a couple of steps away from him, hovering uncertainly. When he raises an eyebrow, he can almost see the 'ah, fuck it', and then she's hugging him. Shuichi pats her back, a little awkwardly.

"Any time", he says and means it. "If there's anything else..."

She tenses next to him, but shakes her head.

"No, it's...I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Well, now he is a little worried. He'll need to keep an eye out for whatever's troubling her.

"Alright." He won't push her; she'll tell him if she needs to.

Masumi lets go and scurries off, fleeing for the door.

"Text me the time and place, I'll be there."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." She nods and waves her goodbye. He follows to lock the door behind her, the bolt sliding shut with a satisfying clack.

There's just one small problem. He currently doesn't have Okiya's get-up. And Okiya doesn't live in this hotel.

After dropping him off yesterday, Shuuichi had planned not to bother him for a couple of days. Well. That plan has just been tossed out the window rather unceremoniously.

It can't be helped. With a bit of apprehension, he calls Scotch.

.

Under the cover of darkness, Shuuichi scales the garden wall, dropping into the Kudo's backyard without issue. The alarms have been disabled according to the schedule he provided.

He slips in through the unlocked backdoor, shutting it behind himself. The security systems of the place are too familiar; he reactivates them on autopilot. Better to avoid unpleasant surprises, wherever possible.

Clearly, Scotch had a similar idea - Shuuichi can barely see his outline in the darkened kitchen, but the revolver he gave to him gleams in the dim light. It's nice to see he's making good use of it.

Sharp blue eyes scan him.

"The passphrase?"

Nostalgia steals the air from his lungs. Between unsafe safe houses, a trigger-happy Bourbon, and working with people best described as shapeshifters, they needed a way to identify themselves, and quickly, when they returned home.

It's been years since he's last spoken it, but the passphrase comes to him as easily as breathing.

"Eat, drink, and be merry..."

Scotch had suggested the words, years ago. The motto he lived by, when not on the job, in order to not lose his sanity. The motto he'd imposed on Rye, as well, when they became partners.

A cheshire grin in the night.

"...for tomorrow we die." Scotch finishes their creed, lowers the revolver.

"Welcome home, Rye."

.

It's always been easy to find comfort by Scotch's side. Between the greeting, making gyoza together - which goes much better than their attempts years ago - and watching mindless action movies with a glass of bourbon, ripping apart impossible stunt work, it's difficult not to fall into a simulacrum of the fragile peace they'd carved out for themselves, away from organisation work.

Only this time, the peace is real.

Despite his apprehensions about meeting Scotch, Shuuichi's glad he's here - travelling with him is one thing, but he didn't realize just how much he's missed downtime with his ex-partner. Scotch's sharp intellect and easy-going attitude make for pleasant company.

It's exactly what he needs to unwind.

Which is why he doesn't see how Scotch has him cornered until it's too late.

.

The neighbourhood of the Kudo manor is quiet, at night.

As they head out onto the balcony for a smoke in the moonlight, their conversation turns to hushed whispers. Mellowed by an evening of pleasant company and several drinks, the world sharpens into focus between them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes.

Standing would be too visible, so they sit on the stone floor, side by side, like so many times before.

"Hey, Akai?" His name, not his monicker. A chilling sense of dread creeps into his chest. Please, no.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Shuuichi closes his eyes. He can take a good guess where this is going. Thus, he takes a deep drag from his cigarette, and braces himself.

"You know. For letting me meet Zero."

He'd been hoping against hope they could avoid the topic altogether. After all, they've made it several hours without addressing it. But unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out.

(Still, having seen Scotch in good spirits all evening makes it worthwhile, just a bit.)

Maybe they can just move along quickly.

"Think nothing of it."

"No. Akai, listen. I know you had to pull some strings to make it happen, and I want you to know I appreciate that. We appreciate that - even if Zero is pissed. First thing he did was slap me; told me I was late."

Scotch laughs, low and sweet in the night air.

They both know he let himself get slapped - Rei tends to telegraph too much, when he's angry, and surely it's even more obvious for someone so intimately familiar with him. The thought stings. And yet, through it, Shuuichi can't help the help the small smile creeping on his face. That sounds like Rei, all right. He would've liked to see it - someone else the target of his anger, for once.

Scotch seems happy to just bask in the memory, but Shuuichi's curiosity has been piqued.

"Did you manage to resolve your issues?" After all, that was the goal. If they didn't, none of this was worth it - several hoops he jumped through, bureaucratic and personal, for nothing.

"It's tentative, so far, but I have faith we'll get there. We've been through too much, together, at this point. This won't break us... I hope."

Shuuichi is reminded painfully of the bits and pieces he's heard of their childhood adventures. Fishing and fighting and being friends. It must be nice, to have found love so early in life. To get to keep it, too.

"I don't think so, it's clear how much he missed you. I'd be surprised if he ever let you go again." It leaves him a little cold, to no longer be the focal point of Furuya's burning determination. Chasing him was always just a means to an end for getting to Scotch. And now his wish has been granted. Shuuichi hopes it's worth it.

When he smiles, Shuuichi is sure this is Hiro, the person closest to Rei. It burns, but at the same time he finds himself glad that Scotch shines with such utter fondness when he talks of Zero. That's what Rei deserves, after all.

"I hope so. I don't intend to leave again, anyways. Every single day when I was hiding, I missed him."

It's a quiet, gentle admission Akai isn't sure how to handle. All these emotions are a bit too much - he's not used to being thanked, unless it's with useless medals, and he's not used to being confided in. He supposes it's nice that Scotch trusts him enough to lay himself bare like this, nowadays. Still, he can't help but wish for the old times, when they were much better at keeping their feelings out of his face. He's already happy for them; isn't that enough?

Scotch turns to look at him, blue eyes burning bright in the moonlight.

"And I missed you, too."

Cold wind tousles his hair. Shuuichi stares at Scotch.

If he didn't know what to say before, he certainly doesn't do so now. How can Hiro say that so easily? It's too personal. It's one thing to have his little sister say it, who only ever saw an idealized version of him to look up to. For Scotch to say this, despite knowing what he did, who he is - it makes Shuuichi nauseous.

Because he can tell Scotch is being painfully genuine.

'I missed you too', burns in his throat. But too many conflicting emotions keep it tightly sealed. His breathing becomes difficult, requires a conscious effort to take air in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.

And Scotch isn't even done yet.

"Akai. I have to get used to that name now, huh? Feel free to call me by my name, too, if you want."

With how his mind is spinning, it's difficult to figure out what he wants at all, besides for Scotch, no, Hiromitsu to stop. He's ripping apart the bubble of warm nostalgia that was enveloping them so nicely, leaving them exposed to the present. The night is cold and uncertain, without its protection.

"...you haven't been meeting my eyes all evening. Please, Akai - let me know what's wrong. We couldn't, back then, but I'd like to be your friend, now."

It's the kindest smile he's seen on Sc- Hiromitsu yet, and it's too much. Shuuichi has to avert his eyes, can't keep looking at his former partner, all earnest focus placed on him. A shiver runs downs his spine.

There's few things he wants more, in life.

"...we are", he manages to tear from his aching throat, choked up with emotion. This is a bad idea. He's not supposed to get attached. He's just making the same mistake, over and over again. He should've kept quiet.

(If he'd told Akemi how he truly felt, would it have mattered?)

"Then why do you seem miserable, whenever you look at me? Why do you try to avoid me? Don't think I didn't notice."

Of course he did, always too sharp. So helpful, on a mission, and occasionally in private too; he'd know they were getting sick before they really felt it, start treatment with soup and tea early. Taking care of them, even then.

"It's got nothing to do with you, it's-" 'me', he wants to say. Fear and bitter envy, the brunt of which Hiromitsu really doesn't deserve to face. So Shuuichi's been trying to avoid them, and, by extension, his former partner.

He manages to catch himself in time, before he gives voice to feelings that can't be unsaid.

"Yes?" Hiromitsu's voice is calm and patient and Shuuichi hates him for the attention he's paying to him.

He manages to correct his course in time, if barely.

"You and Rei deserve some time alone, now that you're finally back together." It's close enough, only a partial lie. They're so important to each other, and he truly wants them to make up. He'd only be in their way.

"Rei, hm?" Hiro smiles at him. Of course he picked up on Shuuichi's blunder.

He's had just about enough of being cornered. Gets up and is about to head inside and maybe hide in the attic for a while. The door can be barricaded from the inside. Hiromitsu rises after him, puts a hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Let. Go." It takes all his patience to not just break Scotch's arm and leave.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Akai. Please, give me half a minute more."

Unfortunately, his best glare stopped working on Scotch several years back. Shuuichi looks at his wristwatch, starts counting down. As soon as Hiromitsu starts talking, he knows his time is better spent focusing on what he has to say, instead.

"Look at me, Akai, and listen up. You can't get between the two of us. I've offered you a place at my side years ago, and Zero... well, he's come around. The offer still stands. It wasn't conditional, but if it was, you would've earned your place easily, by now. I owe you my life, and so does Zero, several times over."

"We did what we had to, and you did the same for me." For the longest time it was that simple, their relationship purely transactional, because Bourbon could only ever deal in exchanges. A favour for a favour.

It's long since stopped working that way, and Shuuichi knows it.

"Oh, please. None us had to do anything more than cooperate on missions, and yet we all chose to do so anyways. You're one of us, Akai. Stop fighting it."

And he wants to, desperately so. The thought of spilling his rotten insides for them to see has him sick to his stomach, and yet, how much worse could it be than what they've already witnessed?

Hiromitsu squeezes his arm, a burning brand of human connection. It staves off the cold, just a little.

When he speaks again, it's soft, but firm.

"You should've joined us for dinner, yesterday. Both of us missed you."

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say to that, too busy fighting his internal battles, but surely something shows on his face, because Hiro laughs at him.

"As amusing as it is to see you flush, no, that wasn't an invitation to a threesome."

...he isn't quite sure whether he's supposed to be relieved, or crestfallen, at this.

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." Hiromitsu's smile is too sly and knowing. It's a testament to the fact Shuuichi's spent too much time with Furuya, because wiping it off his face in a fight sure sounds appealing, right about now.

He's always been better at expressing himself through deeds rather than words, anyways.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't need to set the record straight. Zero's furious, by the way. Count yourself lucky that I'm the one breaking the news to you. He doesn't appreciate being set up on a date with his best friend."

Hiromitsu pauses, presumably to let that sink in. Shuuichi stares him down. That is supposed to be new information, how?

"Let me be perfectly clear: I love Zero."

He says it easily, with a sweet smile. It stings fiercely in Shuuichi's chest. By now, he thinks he knows what Hiromitsu is playing at, but unfortunately that knowledge doesn't prevent it from being an effective tactic.

(If this is how Hiromitsu treats his friends, he doesn't want to be his enemy.)

"He's my best friend, I love him like a brother. But he's family. Nothing more, nothing less."

There's a small pang of guilt at the relief that floods his system, but he needs it said explicitly to really believe it.

"You aren't a couple, then?"

Hiromitsu raises an eyebrow, as if to ask 'and why would that matter to you?' But thankfully he's done teasing, or Shuuichi really would need to break something, or rather, someone.

"No. I can see how you got the idea, but there's never been anything between us. Zero says you have a brother? Imagine we presumed the same about you two, just because you're close."

The confirmation lets him breathe more freely, even if it will need time to settle. His mind is still spinning, too many thoughts fighting for control. From this mess, of all things, his long-forgotten manners emerge as the failsafe. "Sorry."

Hiromitsu waves it off with a grin.

"I don't mind too much, we got excellent dinner out of it. Thank you for that, by the way. But do make sure to apologize properly to Rei."

Hiro winks at him, then straightens, looks him in the eye.

Squeezes his arm a final time, before he lets go.

"I mean it, Akai - you're our friend. And I hope you rest a little easier, knowing the truth."

Shuuichi does.

.

He's five minutes late to the requested location downtown - through little fault of his own, this time.

Masumi's text arrived a mere twenty minutes ago, and the things PSB liaison Akai Shuuichi might get away with, such as speeding, don't apply to the civilian Okiya Subaru (though that would admittedly be a very nice perk of the job).

He can hazard a guess why Masumi didn't send the details earlier as he drives past the building in question to find a parking spot - she probably didn't want to give him time to reconsider and back out.

Because she's dragging him to a goddamn karaoke bar, and, standing in the huddle of girls waiting for him, is Miyano Shiho.

His instincts tell him to cancel, to take up position on the rooftop bar across the street - it would provide easier surveillance options.

(But he's tried to protect Akemi from afar, and failed her, miserably.)

Besides, he promised, and he really does try to be better, these days.

So he smiles, all awkward and apologetic Subaru, as he joins them. It's going to be a long night.

(He's soothed by the smell of Rei's hypoallergic fabric softener clinging to the sweater he picked. Can't help but feel that there would be a certain appeal to sharing them, if Rei were open to the idea.)

.

The evening goes better than he imagined, all things considered, even if there's crying involved - as is often the case when he meets Mouri Ran.

It's a pleasant distraction, if nothing else.

He keeps an eye on Masumi all night to see what could possibly be bothering her, but as far as he can tell she's genuinely happy to spend the night with her friends. In fact, considering she told him how it had been too long since they'd last seen each other, she pays surprisingly little attention to him.

He prefers it this way.

(Although he would've liked to ask for her advice on how to apologise properly. Alas, this is probably not the right time, or place.)

.

Mostly he stays at their table, watching the girls' drinks and the crowd, occasionally giving guys who seem to consider chatting the girls up cheerful glares. Masumi made her wishes very clear, after all.

It's a good thing he talked to Scotch Hiromitsu yesterday. Enthusiasm permeates the bar, but unfortunately confidence doesn't equate to talent. Several of the loud, out of tune performances would've been torture with a hangover.

He finds himself humming along to the classics regardless.

As it is, it's almost pleasant. Sure, Shiho keeps ignoring him when it's just the two of them left at the table, but that's better than open hostility. Probably.

(It feels a little worse.)

.

Two hours in Sonoko ushers Ran to stay with Subaru rather conspicuously.

Smalltalk is stilted between them, lacking in common ground, and it doesn't really help that their connection is through the Kudo family, the memories of which she's here to escape for the night. She's polite as ever, but without the other girls as buffer, the conversation quickly runs dry.

Thankfully, the girls' singing distracts them soon enough. A cutesy pop song about moving on, dedicated to Ran.

She seems about ready to cry halfway through, and by the time they're done she's sniffling and trying to discreetly wipe her tears. Shuuichi gives her a handkerchief and pats her back rather awkwardly in an effort to try and soothe her. He hopes the girls will be back soon to take care of this. He's woefully underqualified to handle this kind of situation.

When they finally do get back, he plans to excuse himself, but before he finds a good time he's swept up in a group hug instead.

Turns out he might have misread the situation - what with Ran being overjoyed at her friends' continued support, and needing to express that, somehow. How exactly that translates into him also being included in their huddle is beyond his comprehension, but he's not going to struggle and cause a scene.

(It's kind of nice to see her smile again - gloominess doesn't suit her.)

.

It might've been a bit too much excitement for Ran, because around midnight she's almost falling asleep at their table. At this point, the rest of the girls declare their mission a success, and the focus shifts to trying to figure out how to get back in the middle of the night.

Shuuichi volunteers to drive them home.

It's crammed in his little Subaru, but the girls manage, and once he's dropped off Sonoko, things quiet down considerably.

Masumi makes him swear not to tell their mother how long they were out.

He agrees, of course, knowing he got up to much worse as a teen - back when he was still susceptible to peer pressure and living abroad in a fraternity, alcohol made him do very stupid things indeed to prove his worth.

If this is how Masumi chooses to defy their mother, he'll take it - she could be up to so much worse.

She's arranged to stay with Ran; thus, he's released from his services for the night. He watches as they help each other up the stairs, leaning in close, whispering and laughing to each other.

He would make an assumption, now, but Hiromitsu's words are still clear in his mind.

So for now, he refrains, and is simply glad they're supporting each other.

.

In the end, predictably, Shiho is the only one left in the car.

"Didn't dare to join us wearing your own skin, cousin?"

He shrugs. "Masumi requested Subaru."

"Well. At least you didn't creep on us from several buildings away. Baby steps." 'But progress, nonetheless', her small smile says.

He doesn't know why he says it. Maybe because it's late. Because Scotch Hiromitsu has chipped away at his protective tissue. Because it's Shiho.

"Staying away didn't save her." He doesn't need to say who - the same wound is carved into Shiho's heart, after all. And judging by the songs she chose to sing today, it still bleeds just the same.

She sighs, long-winded and too world-weary for a girl her age.

"No. No, it didn't. All it did was rob us of the time we had with her. Utter idiocy, in retrospect."

Shuuichi hums in agreement. Lost opportunities they'll never get back, all thanks to lies and the wish to protect her.

"I tried to push her away, you know? I was too involved - maybe, if she didn't know what I was doing, she could retain her innocence. Maybe she could even leave, one day, I'd hoped. But she clung to me stubbornly."

Never backing down from what she wanted, from those she loved. That's the women he fell for.

Shuuichi finds himself smiling, somewhat pained.

"She loved you dearly, to the bitter end."

He hands her the flip phone that has been his constant companion for almost a year now. Past the lockscreen waits Akemi's last message to him. With its P.S., asking him to protect her dear little sister, if the worst should come to pass.

He never got to reply to her, to promise that he would, of course he would.

It's short, so Shiho doesn't take long to read it. She attempts to hand it back, eyes glistening, but not crying.

Always composed, in front of him.

"Keep it."

It hurts to let go of it, but Shiho deserves to have assurance of Akemi's love, even in death.

(Unlike himself, who only ever lied to her.)

She looks up at him, uncertain, but what she reads on his face seems enough to convince her. She snaps the phone shut, cradles it to her chest.

Smiles grimly at him. "Thank you."

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

They split up in front of the Kudo mansion.

"...I was planning to visit her grave on the weekend. You should come."

.

Shuuichi knows where Akemi's ashes have been laid to rest - he was the one to pay for her funeral, after all.

(Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of a future with her, of being family. Cruel irony, how that turned out to be true.)

Since her parents were never officially buried, and he hadn't been able to reach Shiho, he'd made the selfish decision to have Akemi's ashes stored in the Sera family grave.

He hasn't had the time to visit, yet - first, things had been too dangerous, then too busy, and by now, he's really just been unable to face her, alone. He's glad he doesn't have to, now.

Shiho sets down an incense stick, and some cut flowers - white gladioli. Shuuichi squats down next to her, puts down his flowers - lilies, also white - into the vase and lights the incense.

"Hey, sis. Look who I managed to drag along."

"Hello, Akemi." Sorry it took so long.

They stand, side by side, in silent prayer.

He's had days to prepare himself, to think about what he wants to say to her. But as he stands before her grave, all that's left is sorrow, a hollow in his chest where she should be.

(Filled with regret, and someone else. Jodie's right. He's a terrible partner.)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I left you behind.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I miss you.

The gentle smile when she talked about her little sister. The sweet blush when he'd kissed her hand. The way she'd awkwardly apologize for flipping the pancake she was making for breakfast into the sink. The ikebana arrangements she'd spend hours and hours on, decorating her flat. Her kind hands, mending his body and soothing his soul. The way the sunlight would turn her hair into gold.

A thousand small joys she gave to him, and all he had for her in turn were lies.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried - maybe as a child, when he fell and scraped his knee. It feels so far away.

His body doesn't remember how to, either - otherwise he surely would be, now.

How cruel. Even in death, he can't show her his honest feelings.

Shuuichi shows her cold comfort, instead.

Takes out a plastic evidence bag he requisitioned from the PSB, and places it on the altar as an offering. In it, the shattered scope of a rifle, splattered with its owner's blood. Gin's. It was found by his side, together with his Beretta, the instrument of his voluntary destruction. As the PSB forces had closed in on him, he'd chosen to kill himself, rather than surrender.

When Shuuichi lies awake at night, it irks him that Gin had a choice, at the end, where he took it away from so many others. He didn't deserve that kindness. A part of him is furious that he wasn't there to see his enemy's dying breaths, preferably through the scope of his rifle.

But it was probably for the best - if he'd been there, he's not sure he could've reigned himself in. Might've murdered Gin with his own two hands, and become the kind of monster he swore to hunt. (And if he's completely honest, there's another possibility: caught in a struggle with his enemy, he might have lost sight of his surroundings and slipped up. Facing Gin, that would've been a death sentence.)

Instead, and he's got the boy to thank for that, he was tasked with keeping their allies - Rei - alive and breathing. He can't help but feel like that matters.

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you; you deserved better.

But he won't be making anyone miserable, anymore.

It's over, and they're still standing, in defiance of the bloodlust of their enemies. He's managed to keep one promise to Akemi, at least.

I'll continue to watch over her, if she lets me.

Shiho claps beside him, done with her prayer.

Thank you for everything.

The incense stick's stump turns to ash and scatters in the wind.

I hope your spirit can find peace, Akemi.

.

When he lights himself a cigarette to calm his mind, Shiho holds out a hand, wordlessly, expectantly.

He regards her with mild curiosity, but offers the pack regardless.

"What. You think I haven't done worse?"

She snatches his lighter, and with a hiss of flame, lights up her own cigarette.

"Akemi used to tell me to stay away from drugs, but I deserve this for bringing you here."

She takes a deep drag, managing not to cough. It's clear, from her posture and practiced ease, that it's far from her first foray into smoking.

"I hated you, you know? For the longest time. For playing with her, breaking her heart, leaving her behind, all alone. Leaving her to die."

It burns his lungs, to have his own thoughts voiced out loud, by Shiho of all people. But he deserves every cruel word dropped from her lips - she speaks nothing but the truth, after all. He needs to bear her judgement.

Shiho smiles, grimly. Doesn't look at him, focused on the grave instead.

"But not Akemi. She saw through you, and loved you still. Forgave you, even, because that's the kind of person she was."

A cold spring breeze plays with her hair. The sweater and cap protect him from the worst of it, but it still bites at his face, makes his eyes sting.

"I don't think I can ever be as forgiving as she was. You were, and still often are, an unrepentant jerk."

She turns to look at him, eyes as hard as steel. So familiar his eyes burn. He can't look away.

"But her death is not your fault."

It's cloaked in insults and pain. But it's an absolution he could never have asked for, one no one else could have given him. His breathing stops, then comes a little easier.

"Neither is it Kudo's. Did he ever tell you? He was there, watched her die. For the longest time, I blamed him for not saving her. He's brilliant when he puts his mind to it. Did he care so little, as to not even try?"

She shakes her head.

"It is a cruel thing to begrudge him for having witnessed her death. He was just a kid - small, powerless, afraid. Up against enemies that tried to kill him, too, only failed through sheer luck. I had to first be put into the same shoes to understand that."

As if she's not just a kid now, too. Neither of them should have gone through what they did, and yet it happened, has left them weathered and worn, tired beyond their years. They're still young - he hopes they can recover from the worst.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault either. She died for me, for us, trying to get us out of there. But I didn't know. She kept it from me, in case something went wrong. And I lie awake, going over conversations, wondering if I missed any signs. If I could've warned her or stopped her. If she could still be here, that way."

He's familiar with the spirals and hypotheticals, repeating the scenario over and over, to look for a way out. It never changes the facts.

"That kind of thinking gets you nowhere."

She gives him a sharp glare, a wordless threat to 'shut the fuck up'. He takes a step back, raising a hand in surrender.

"I know it's useless. Because she is dead, and no amount of analysing can bring her back. At least the one person who truly is at fault will not be a problem any longer. That's a small comfort."

She glares at the scope with barely concealed hatred in her eyes.

"And that's all there is. Akemi was proud and strong-willed - she chose her path. Not reaching out to any of us for help was a choice she made. I can't take away her agency in this matter."

Shiho smiles, pained and beautiful in the setting sun.

"The worst thing is that if she hadn't done what she did, I might still be a prisoner of the organisation. I'd like to think she didn't want to die to achieve it, but she'd be so happy to see me living in the sunlight, once more."

"She would be overjoyed." It's an obvious and simple truth he can't help but confirm.

Oh. Shiho's crying, now, quiet tears trailing down her cheeks, reflecting the sunlight in streaks of gold. It shaves years of her worn face, makes her look as young as she truly is.

He gives her a handkerchief, is glad to see her accept it. She wipes her face, smudging some of the make-up - he'll need to let her know before they return to the public. She doesn't usually like it when people can see past her composure. Shuuichi's pretty sure he, too, shouldn't be here to witness this.

But she doesn't hide from him, today, so he'll take all she gives to him, and treasure it.

"I brought you here because I'm trying to be better. I got a second chance at life, and I want to take it, all of it, for myself and for Akemi. But I won't be able to, if I hold on to useless grudges."

She looks at the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're a jerk, but you're not horrible. And you're trying to be better, too."

She holds out her hand.

"I want to get to know you, Akai Shuuichi. Maybe we could start with meeting for coffee?"

He waits for her to take it back, to reconsider.

She just looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow too when he doesn't comply immediately.

Shuuichi is many things, but he tries not to be a coward.

So he fights the vertigo, takes a leap of faith.

"I'd like that."

And shakes her hand.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[flowercrowngods]

you said soft things so have this little thing very loosely based on how my first birthday after I moved away from home to live hours away from my family my brother got me a flower delivery thing each month for half a year. So for six months I had the same guy deliver flowers to me, it wasn’t anything but like… it could be, I can make it steddie (it’s 3:30 am and I wrote this in my notes so sorry for any mistakes)

So, Steve who moved kind of far away for college and is living in a shitty student apartment and hasn’t decorated it a lot and Robin thinks he needs something nice to look at every day and something to remind him he has people that loves him when he convinces himself that they’ve forgotten about him now that he’s away. So she gets him a flower delivery once a month with notes saying encouraging messages or bad jokes, sometimes a tiny update. It helps him, he’s not doing badly or anything and actually enjoys studying but he misses his friends.

Then we have Eddie who’s the flower delivery guy, it’s his side job, or it’s his main job and then he also gets payed to play some gigs sometimes. Either way, he delivers flowers. Mostly it’s to old people from their grandchildren, for birthdays, and from someone’s partner, often a partner that has fucked up (he also hand writes the messages that come in with the order and he’s had to write some very pleading apology ones in his time)

He has a monthly order to the same guy, the same gorgeous guy who last time opened the door looking so soft with glasses sliding down his nose and hair all messy and holding a cup of half drunk coffee and gave him such a warm smile he almost proposed to this stranger on the spot.

Every month he’s both so excited to deliver his flowers and also dreads it because he’s 99% sure this guys girlfriend sends them, that they’re long distance and she gets him flowers every month with little notes that he has to write, this month it was ‘I scraped up my whole leg climbing up the tree outside my window sneaking back into my room, I don’t know how you used to do that all the time.’ So like, obviously high school sweethearts if he used to sneak into her room.

So, it’s great because he gets to see this guy who’s stupidly pretty and always gets this wondrous look on his face like he’s still in awe about the flowers months in and that’s honestly the highlight of Eddie’s day. But, it’s awful because he also has to hand him flowers from someone else knowing he’s just some insignificant middle man.

Steve at this point gets more excited about the guy who delivers the flowers than the flowers, he loves them and all but this guy who comes every month and with a dimpled smile hands them over is taking over his brain. He doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable by asking him out though, like he’s doing his job and it feels inappropriate.

He complains to Robin who time after time tells him to just ask the guy out, if he says no it may be a little awkward but it’s a tiny interaction once a month it’s fine. Steve knows she’s right but still doesn’t, is afraid to break the spell of their monthly exchange. Robin grows tired of his pining though and the next time she places an order she makes the note ‘the guy who gets the flowers wants to ask the delivery guy out but keeps chickening out so I’m doing it for him: Delivery guy with bangs and ‘the prettiest brown eyes’ will you go out with Steve?’

Eddie reads that message of the order, has to write that message out with wide confused eyes and hope rising in his chest. When Steve opens his door he shoves the flowers at him and blurts out “I thought you were dating Robin”

Steve gives him a confused look, which yeah of course he does, so Eddie takes a breath and tells him to read the note. The confusion on Steve’s face slowly fades and is replaces with red cheeks and a sheepish smile.

He clears his throat and glances up at Eddie. “She’s my best friend,” he tells him, “may or may not get to keep that title depending on how this goes.”

Eddie is feeling too many things to say more than a breathy, “yes.” At Steve’s raised eyebrow though he clarifies.

“Yes I’ll go out with you.” Then a sudden horrifying thought hits him, “if you actually want that and your friend isn’t joking or got it wrong or-“

“Does 8 o’clock tonight work for you?”

Eddie nods and Steve’s smile gets wider with each frantic jerk of his chin.

“It’s a date then.”

and then on their first date, eddie gets flowers for the first time. doesn’t have to deliver them, doesn’t have to give them away, no, these ones are his to keep, and he allows himself to take a deep breath for the first time, getting to enjoy the way they smell, the way he always watched people do. never once taking his eyes off steve, who watches with a smile. 🥹

[moldy-flowers]

The interesting experience of being pro Sasuke, anti konoha, pro tobirama, anti Naruto ending, pro Sasusaku, anti Itachi, pro Sakura, anti SasuNaru, pro Tobirama×Izuna, anti Madara, pro karin, anti Orochimaru, pro Uchiha and anti Hashirama. And also as much as I hate the guy danzo was kind of hot when he was younger...

[rockcattomato]

Y’know being exactly the same amount a flower husbands and a ranchers shipper is a hard life but I’m out here living it

[beanghostprincess]

i know most of us say luffy's flower is the sunflower because of very obvious reasons (both because of, you know, dressrosa and the whole meaning behind sunflowers), but i want to know your opinions on what flowers you assign to the straw hats!!! i'm very curious about flower language and it would be interesting to read what you all think <33

[kavvueh]

AO3 WRAPPED!!!

Now tell me why the longest fic I read is xvn but the ONLY ships that show up on my wrapped are hkv???? skewed!!!!!!!!11111

this was fun to see though lol. (You can do it through here!)

[voidbeau]

!!!🌹Thorn and Mr. Flower🌿 tiiime!!!

And boy I will never not be so so enthusiastic about these guyz <333

I touched on the dynamics of their relationship in a previous post on my last account before it was terminated. But seeing as that post is lost at sea now, I'll do a bit of recap on that.

Just to have everything neatly in one post.

And then I gotta remember to save this post in a separate document or something in case something happens to this account...

Anyway, the boyz 🌹🌿

---

So, as I've mentioned previously, I've always pictured Mr. Flower and Thorn's relationship to have extremely rocky beginnings.

We're talking, tons of baggage on both sides.

Trust issues from one end and desperate clinging on the other in the form of big promises and what may or may not be tons of lip service.

Not to mention all the potential secret guarding.

Thorn has some form of charm, sure.

Enough that in the beginning he was able to garner interest from Mr. Flower.

"Sure, maybe we'll see where this goes..."

But as I've said before, my take on Mr. Flower is that he's a very closed off individual.

Getting him to open up is like trying to pry open iron doors with nothing but a couple of toothpicks.

Most people aren't likely to have known anything other than an idealized version of himself. The Mr. Flower he wants you to see.

And that version of Mr. Flower can certainly seem pleasant and easy to talk to, but when exposed to it long enough, it becomes obvious how very surface level it all is, but to Mr. Flower, it's preferable to how he knows he can be.

And if you manage to speak with him with his mask off, then you might find yourself wondering if maybe you prefer the performative version of Mr. Flower.

But that was the idea of course.

Give people a better, more palatable alternative.

There have been very few people who have found the real Mr. Flower tolerable to be around and as such, there have been very few people who have found any reason to stick around.

And that's sort of the expected outcome Mr. Flower has of any potential relationship he gets involved in, whether romantic or platonic or whatever else!

He's learned over the years that it's much easier to just to keep his expectations low and others an arm's length away.

And if anyone gets too close, it's best to retreat before things are liable to become painful.

And if for whatever reason, someone tries to persist when pulling away, it's good to remind that person why they thought to keep a distance in the first place, in whatever manner seems necessary in the moment.

Even if feelings are hurt.

Even if it ends the relationship in that moment.

Better to leave than to be left behind yet again.

"It was doomed to fail anyway..."

This man is walled in on all sides.

And yet despite this, Mr. Flower is plagued by the thinnest rays of troubling thoughts and emotions.

Hopefulness and desire for genuine, lasting companionship appear as annoying cracks in the walls Mr. Flower so carefully built up over the years, and despite the constant reminders why it's best not to leave his miserable fortress of self preservation, he often finds himself with one foot out the front gates far too often.

And that was exactly where Thorn found Mr. Flower, hovering just beyond his gates. Open enough to the world that he began his journey with Mr. Flower with a mask half off.

With a glimpse of a real person behind a carefully crafted persona.

Not enough to tell the whole story, but enough to want to uncover that story. To get the full picture.

How desperately Mr. Flower has tried to slip that mask of his back on as soon as he realizes whats been done.

Unfortunately...

"You should know better sweetheart, your tricks don't work on me."

Because Thorn's already gotten a glimpse, so what on earth is this funny little act you're putting on, Mr. Flower? This isn't the you I remember meeting on that rainy evening.

And while this has ignited the tiny embers of hope in Mr. Flower into a small flame, it's also bewildered and frustrated him.

Because Thorn insists on tugging on the edges of Mr. Flower's mask and unraveling his disguise thread by nervous thread. And it would seem that no amount of pulling away or lashing out is doing anything to dissuade this baffling rose man.

Not for long, at least.

And sure, they get into fights- frustrated back and fourths over each other's characters, and despite Mr. Flower thinking,

"This is it. This time for sure, it has to be. This time he's gone for good..."

Thorn always surprises Mr. Flower when he's the one to come back with an apology. When Thorn assumes he's done something to deserve Mr. Flower's ire. When Thorn goes on to admire those things Mr. Flower tries so hard to keep buried.

"I like that part of you. The real you, and how unapologetically you it is." He says through a toothy grin and an airy chuckle.

And Mr. Flower's stomach twists into knots.

"I love how fiery you are when you're not holding yourself back and I admire the honesty, even if it's a little hard to hear sometimes." Says Thorn.

"And though I wish you'd be just a bit more gentle, I also understand the world hasn't exactly been the most gentle with you."

And as Thorn reaches out to gingerly grab at Mr. Flower's hands, all Mr. Flower can do is swallow back the lump in his throat and watch while Thorn plants a soft kiss on those tense hands of his.

"I wouldn't change a thing about you." He says.

He insists.

"I don't understand you..." Says Mr. Flower, quiet and deadpan as he looks up, searching those half lidded, spiral eyes.

Thorn chuckles again, finding amusement over the concern and confusion on Mr. Flower's face, yet never missing the detail of those fanned out ear petals and how they twitch so enthusiastically every so often.

"It's easier to see the details close up." Thorn says, his thumbs caressing Mr. Flower's hands now. "Let me in and I promise it'll make sense."

A simple request, barely above a whisper and it sends Mr. Flower's heart racing and his mind screaming.

He's flooded with thoughts and emotions pulling him in every which direction.

Does he just let that happen? Or does he run as far and fast as his legs can take him?

He isn't sure, and he's frozen in place while Thorn waits patiently for an answer, until he realizes he may not get one in the moment.

"But-... if you're not ready that's okay. I can wait." Says Thorn now, gently letting those hands go as he takes a step back.

And Mr. Flower has to stamp out that desire to close the gap again.

The problem here is that Thorn is all Mr. Flower has left with in the moment.

Perhaps its not so much a problem as it is a solution?

But the idea of relying so heavily on someone is terrifying to Mr. Flower, especially when he knows so little about them.

And while Thorn continues to insist things will be okay and strives to convince Mr. Flower he can be trusted with the monumental task of getting to really know Mr. Flower.

Some things come up.

Something always comes up.

Time goes on and everytime Mr. Flower is at the threshold of his decision, something new comes to light about Thorn that leaves Mr. Flower second guessing everytime.

And everytime he considers that it might be best to leave this one in the dust with all the others, Thorn tugs Mr. Flower back into the same confusing cycle.

"C'mon, babe. It's not like that!"

"I promise it'll make sense, love just give it time."

"I know it sounds crazy, but..."

"I want to tell you, but...

And Mr. Flower is getting tired.

Tired of the secrets, the excuses the half truths. Tired of being talked up and let down every. single. time.

"You keep telling me to open up when I'm not even sure I've ever known who you are!"

And indeed, how can any man be expected to trust a stranger and to love someone you've hardly met?

And yet Mr. Flower is caught in the thickest part of a thorny bramble patch, unable to leave either by his own indecisiveness or because Thorn simply won't let him.

Because despite all the turmoil and uncertainty, there have been very real moments of that genuine connection Mr. Flower craved for so long.

Or at least, he thought there had been.

It's hard to say, and while Thorn insists that yes, of course they were genuine, it's difficult to take him at his word when he's constantly sneaking off late at night, constantly preoccupied with an old flame and always going off about these grand claims he swears are true, in place of the answers Mr. Flower so consistently pleads for.

"I don't understand you..."

"I know, sweetheart I know. Please give it some more time.

I promise it will all make sense."

A few things are for certain about Thorn that Mr. Flower has come to learn.

One is that he is a very busy and singularly minded man, and two is that there are very few things in the world that will come between Thorn and his many mysterious plans.

And the third, it would seem, is that Mr. Flower is not among the exceptions, no matter how much Thorn insists how important Mr. Flower is to him.

There are things that absolutely need changing, and while there are ways in which I could see the two working things out, they are not Without their trials.

Physically, mentally, emotionally, nobody is coming out unscathed. But sometimes you need to tear things apart in order to build anew.

A lot of Thorn's secretiveness is for valid reasons, though I won't go into too much detail cause I have fics planned- even if they take me YEARS to finish.

I will say, he is genuinely in love with Mr. Flower, and while he's not in the greatest place for him to be able to express it like he wants to, I've always imagined that Mr. Flower has a way of grounding Thorn when he gets all caught up in all his mystery work.

And boy howdy is it work.

But it's all worth it if it means securing a future where he can live in peace with his beloved Mr. Flower.

So long as they can weather the current storm.

The way I've seen it is that Thorn showed up around the time Mr. Flower and Mr. Plant began drifting, and since Mr. Flower doesn't have a lot of actual friends, losing the only one he felt he had was surprisingly hard for Mr. Flower to navigate.

He's been alone so long he thought he'd be fine. But thats the issue, Mr. Flower has been alone so long that he's not equipped with the proper tools for maintaining and fixing proper relationships.

Thorn has been a real conundrum for Mr. Flower on top of it all.

He's been as much of a learning experience in the department of communication as he has been a source of stress.

He's been an unlikely steadying hand and also another reason for Mr. Flower to be cautious.

He's heard and learned more about Thorn from others than he's ever learned from Thorn himself, except that Thorn is one large, walking, frustrating mystery to Mr. Flower.

There is definitely more to Thorn than meets the eye and as things progress and Mr. Flower is faced with terrifying revelations about Mr. Plant, Mr. Flower becomes more and more terrified about the things Thorn could actively be hiding.

They are just two performers on separate stages.

And they need to start learning how to get their act together because there's a lot more uncertainty and terrors on the horizon for these two.

----

And also @thatgirlwithasquid since you said you'd be interested in the read. ; v;

[123pixieaod]

Inspired by this godly post which unlocked a part of my brain I didn't know existed, and solidly gave me complete and utterly brainrot until I wrote something

A thousand thanks to Lily for her wonderful help :))

"Does Kelly not mind you spending all your time with me?" Daniel asks, because she's Daniel and once she's thought something she can't keep her fucking mouth shut, even if she knows it's trouble.

Max looks up, pausing his set of weights, and blinks at her. Daniel feels her cheeks warm. One day, that mouth of yours will run you straight into trouble, young lady, her mum used to tell her, voice firm. Good girls know when to keep quiet. Daniel used to just laugh at the warning. Her laugh is loud and the opposite of quiet, but she used to know that everyone always loved her laugh.

"No," Max says after a beat and then continues lifting. Daniel hates the way her gaze tracks over him, lingering on the movement of his muscles, the ease with which he lifts the weight. Tawny hair brushed out of his eyes, cheeks dusted warm from the exertion. "Of course not."

"Why of course not?" Daniel asks. She wants to sew her mouth shut. This time, Max didn't look over as he answers.

"Kelly's very secure, she's not like other girls. And besides, she knows you."

It's strange. When Daniel was seven and Michelle eleven, they'd gone rock pool fishing. Michelle had been crouched over a shallow pool of water, her finger delicately brushing the tentacles of the anemone. Daniel had been scaling the rocks, wanting steeper, taller, more.

She'd found the shark first, nestled high at between the rocks, and for a beat she hadn't known what she was looking at. Just details, but nothing collective. Rotting smell. Shrivelled holes where eyes should be. Scales of silver lightning. Rubbery fish picked clean. The flash of bone, pearl white.

Then she realised what she was staring at, and screamed. Her father held her while her mother scolded her. I told you not to go climbing! It's too dangerous, Daniel. Why can't you just be good like your sister and stay by the shallow pools?

And then, later, ice cream. Her dad, beside her, explaining the horror away.

It's just nature, Dani. The waves wash them up, and they get stuck there. They can't get back to the sea, and then the sun dries them out.

They drown on air, Michelle helpfully pointed out, her feet kicking happily as she licked her 99. Daniel just just nodded, ice cream untouched. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the sunken holes, the rotting flesh.

She hasn't thought about that moment for years, but suddenly it washes back over her. She feels simultaneously both. The child, staring at the carcass, frozen in shock. The shark, burning up in the sun, chocking on air.

"What does that mean?" She asks, and somehow her voice is normal, is fine. She's fine. She's not a girl or a shark. She's stupid and a fool and a gawky, ugly idiot, but she's fine.

Max manages to shrug, even with the 50kg weights. "You know. Just that Kelly knows you. She knows what you're like. And she knows me too, of course."

Daniel swallows. She nods. She hates everything about herself.

"That's sexist," she forces herself to say lightly because if the silence stretches anymore, Max might notice and set his weights down and look at her, and Daniel can't bear that. She doesn't want his eyes on her, taking in every blemish and imperfection. The boyish, ratty clothes she works out in and her curls gone frizzy with sweat and her inked skin, so different to Max and Kelly's pale, perfect complexions.

"What's sexist?"

"Saying she's not like other girls," Daniel tells him, setting down the weights she been doing. Instead, she goes to grab the skipping rope, just for something to do.

Max laughs. Daniel's glad she's turned away. Her cheeks are burning again.

"It's the truth. You, of course, Daniel, are not like other girls either." He says it lightly and ends with a chuckle, as if it's all just a joke. Daniel drags a sweaty hand over her cheeks. Burning, burning, burning.

Apparently, in Max's mind, she and Kelly are the same; both not like other girls. Kelly, with her faultless makeup and wonderful daughter and classy dresses and perfect feminity. One end of the scale. Daniel, the other. Barely even considered "a girl." Always one of the boys, only woman in f1 for a reason.

"Thanks," Daniel says. She wants to make it sound humorous, like she's in on the joke too. Instead, it's too cold; muttered as if she actually gave two shits about the conversation anyway. She has an F1 season to prepare for, she's too busy to care about stupid shit like this.

There's a beat of silence as Daniel stretches out the rope, feeling the plastic flex and give. Then, Max exhaling, the gentle bump of his weights against the floor, the workout bench shifting as his centre of gravity changes. Daniel keeps her back to him, ignoring it all.

"I did not mean it as insult," Max finally says, stubborn. Daniel forces a laugh, turning to give him a smile, all teeth.

"Of course not Maxy. I get that." Voice light and blithe. One of the boys.

She thinks he'll drop it, but instead, his frown only grows. Pinched brows, thin lips, cheeks growing blotchy. Blue eyes regard her, intense and unyielding. She burns from the inside out.

"I've upset you," he says, in that blunt, genuine way only he can do. Daniel barks out another laugh.

"Don't be stupid. You're not important enough to ever be able to get under my skin." She gives him another smile with only teeth. She feels insane. Her mother tells her good girls stay quiet.

"I'm sorry," he tries again, growing frustrated now, "I did not mean -"

"I told you, you didn't upset me," she drops the skipping rope without actually using it. "Anyway, I'm bored. Wanna get lunch now? Or are you still trying to pump those muscle with more testosterone?"

Max gives her one last, searching look before standing. They're almost the same height. She wants to shrink to nothing.

"That is not how testosterone works, Daniel," he says with the air of an overworked teacher. He looks at her with a smile, uncertain but genuine. She laughs, allowing him to move the conversation on.

She walks out of the gym first but holds the door for him. He grins, relieved. His fingers skim hers as he takes it and she lets go. A chill runs through her. Cold like scales, cold like ice cream untouched.

Follow up here!

[ihave-83-protons]

suddenly thinking of a zakkura shinra-less motorcyclist au what do y'all think

[raayllum]

for day 1 of rayllum’s bad vibes rodeo, flowers

He finds the flowers near the rim of the Sea of the Cast Out, growing almost like weeds - stubborn but bright like Moon arcanum flowers, out of whatever outskirts of ruins they’ve stumbled across. He was meant to be gathering firewood, but the flowers catch his eye, and well... They’re pretty, just like Rayla, and he’s been bad at expressing himself since coming back, but he knows she’s homesick and worried about her parents, and maybe something Moon arcanum-y will lift her spirits? Maybe the flowers can do the talking for him?

Callum gathers a small bouquet, the scent soothing, and then tucks them carefully into the seam of his tunic where he keeps her letter over his heart. Maybe, if he gets up the nerve to give her the flowers, they can finally talk about all of it. Why it hurt when she left, what he still doesn’t understand, and what he wants.

That he wants her.

He comes back to the campfire, Ezran playing with Stella, Rayla watching with a sweet smile while Bait grumbles in the corner. Callum adds the firewood to their pile and plops down, decidedly more beside her in a way that would’ve been normal, before, but feels tentative and heart-racing to rebuild now.

“You were gone for a while,” she notes, still smiling, but he can see the faint worry in her eyes. “Almost sent Bait out to look for you.”

Callum scoots a bit closer as a silent apology, his knee bumping into hers. “Ah, excellent tracker, is he?” He’s less surprised this time when Rayla hum and rests her head on his shoulder, her smile growing and worry fading.

“Oh, the best.”

Callum snorts, and they stay like that until the fire dies down and Ez and Stella grow quiet, Stella bounding over to curl up on Rayla’s other shoulder, and Zym coils his tail around a sleeping Ezran.

It takes even longer for Callum to find his voice, the arm that’s not wrapped around her waist half reaching for the flowers in his pocket. They’re beautiful, just like her, and she deserves to know... what? That he loves her? That he loves her.

“Rayla?” he begins, but there’s not even a sleepy hum in response, and he looks over to find her dozing, her cheek softly smushed against his shoulder.

Everything in him eases and twists with disappointment all at once. Okay, so not tonight. He leans forward and gives her forehead a little kiss, mindful of her horns. But tomorrow, for sure.

He wakes up alone, her sleeping bag cold when he reaches for her. His fingers don’t brush any of her weapons either, not her father’s bow or her familiar butterfly blades, and it hits him like a gut punch, the idea of being at Umber Tor and not having anything of her left, because she leaves, just like she always does, and—

Callum sits up, a bitter twinge in his heart. “Where’s—”

“She went out scouting,” Ez answers, petting Zym’s head by the newly lit fire.

“And you didn’t think to wake me?” he grouses irritably. They could’ve gone together. She would’ve let him come this time, wouldn’t she? She’d wanted him to come in the Drakewood, and he’d been too angry and proud to—

��We figured a prince needs his beauty sleep,” she drawls, strolling back into camp with berries and a bright smile. Ezran accepts the present eagerly, Rayla frowning when Callum doesn’t lighten. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, composing himself. He isn’t going to be mad anymore. He doesn’t want to be mad. He just wants—He reaches for the flowers, his fingers finding only strange ash. What the—?

Can emotion kill the good things too, as some kind of cruel magic?

“Just... still a bit tired,” he lies, and she softens.

“Eat,” she coaxes. “You’ll feel better.”

He gets his answer later though, when their path takes them by the same bend of ruins he’d traipsed through the previous night. The field had been full of beautiful blooms, but now they’re nothing more than crumbled piles of ash. Zym sniffs at one with a displeased snort.

“What are these about, Rayla?” Ezran asks.

“Flowers of Elarion,” she says. “They’re beautiful, but only at night. They regrow in the evening but don’t make it past sunrise.”

“Like a phoenix cycle?”

She reaches down and ruffles Ezran’s hair. “A bit, yeah.”

“That’s sort of sad,” he reflects.

“Sort of,” she agrees. “But they’re flowers. They can’t change their nature.”

Callum presses his lips together. They’re beautiful and soothing, just like her, and nothing good nor bad ever lasts forever, but fuck, his heart hurts now. There’s a strange quality in his voice, as he says, “So they’re always gone by morning?”

Rayla catches his eye, and there must be something in his gaze, too, because she ducks her head, unable to entirely hold it—just like he can’t entirely hold her, no matter how badly he wants to. “Yes,” she answers. She swallows. “They are.”